Reach the Stars
by Inky-Paws
Summary: Desperate to make the pain go away, Roderich sat down on the piano bench and played for the first time in ten years, since Gil had died. Despite having been untouched for so long, the piano was in perfect tune, and as the music rose, so did the memories. His fingers danced with the keys, and as they hit each one a new note rose and joined the others, creating one fluid dance.


Hi! This is really random. Like really random. But the magical rainbow of inspiration hit me, and now I'm writing. When I should be packing for a trip. *sighs* Oops. Anyway, this story isn't a sequel, but it's a connected story to one of my other stories, Falling Star, which covers more in detail of what happened when Gilbert died and the backstory of this. I guess that makes this a companion story to that? I have a wonderful tendency to screw up terminology, so I apologize if the terms I used here were wrong. (Basically it covers his death. Why I felt the need to clarify that, I don't know.) You don't need to read it to understand this, but if you want a story that covers more of the details of Gilbert's death, that's your story to go to. I promise it isn't completely filled with angst, I swear. *friends glare at me in the distance. I swear it isn't completely angst! There's only some! And I'm really not helping my case! *friends sharpen knives* I think that's my cue to leave... enjoy. *runs off screaming while friends chase after me*

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 _"Music speaks what cannot be expressed, soothes the mind and gives it rest, heals the heart and makes it whole, flows from heaven to the soul."_

 _\- Angela Monet_

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 _"Life is like a piano. The white keys represent happiness and black keys represent sadness. But as we go through life's journey, remember that we need both to create sweet music."_

 _\- Unknown_

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Roderich made his way to the music room, almost by rote. It had been months, maybe even years since he last been there, but he still could navigate his way to the still room without blinking. He hadn't played his piano for so long, and yet the steps he took to the room were still engraved in his heart.

He hadn't played since Gilbert had faded. It had been ten years since he had died, and he hadn't played since.

When Gilbert had faded, he had renounced the playing of his instruments, and hadn't played since, but for some reason, they seemed to call to him today. Maybe it was the anniversary, maybe it was the day, Roderich didn't know, but as if he was in a daze, he followed his footsteps to the music room. When he reached the room, he paused before the door. The handle was dusty from not being used recently, and when he opened it, it creaked loudly. Roderich winced. The piercing noise hurt his ears. The room creaked in protest and annoyance of being left alone for so long.

The moonlight hit him in the face, and he winced as he stared at his old piano and memories resounded within the walls of his head, with nowhere else to go. They had echoed in his ears every day, vibrated throughout his soul, and ceaselessly bugged him every day since his death.

Desperate to make the pain go away, Roderich sat down on the piano and played for the first time in years. Despite having been untouched for so many years, the piano was in perfect tune, and as the music rose, so did the memories. His fingers danced with the keys, and as they hit each one a new note rose and joined the others. His feet lightly swept across the pedals as if they were twirling on a dance floor, never staying one spot for too long, always moving in one way or another, each move and each sound joining the others to create one fluid dance.

The door creaked open, and a wide-eyed and crying Elizabeta peeked in. Realizing what he was doing, she tiptoed over to her violin, picked it up, and started playing, joining Roderich in his music. Her fingers lightly brushed against and manipulated each string with the bow, and she lightly held each one, considering it, then releasing it in favor of another, like she was switching between two dance partners. Her bow danced across the instrument, which too was in perfect tune despite having been left untouched for so many years, and her music rose and intertwined itself with Roderich's, each meeting it's parter midair, and joining each other in a waltz. The music spun and whirled around, and tears dripped down both of their faces and splashed against their respective instruments, immersing them in memory.

The memory of three children sprawled out on a hill, stretched out under the morning sunlight sleeping, enjoying the temporary peace.

The memory of three tweens, playing with the little yellow bird that the white-haired tween had found. The little bird pecked at the girl's hand, and she giggled, before it perched itself on the dark-haired boy's head. The white-haired boy laughed at this, while the dark-haired boy sputtered and shook his hands around in a tizzy. The girl held a finger out and the little bird flew to her and situated itself on the tip of her nail, chirping proudly.

The memory of the girl being carried back by her friends after a battle, severely wounded and screaming in pain, and the dark-haired boy holding her down and crying while the white-haired boy stitched and bandaged her wounds. They had both held her hands while she cried in pain, and shot glares to anyone who looked at the crying girl twice.

The memory of the girl repaying the favor, and on more than one occasion holding one or both of the boys down while cleaning their wounds. She had held their hands throughout the painful process.

The memory of three teens in the music room, switching around on the instruments. Play a couple of notes on one instrument, switch to another, play a couple of notes on that instrument, switch to another, repeat the process. They all laughed, switching that quickly only added atrocious noise to the noise that the girl made when she wasn't playing the violin. They didn't know why they were doing this. It was three in the morning and they had honestly lost control of their lives.

The memory of three teens on a battlefield. One held up a sword and challenged the other, and the girl quickly intervened and beat the white-haired boy up. Later, after the battle and out of the public eye where their generals wouldn't see and yell at them, they had helped bandage each other's wounds, then left, and pretended that nothing had happened so their bosses wouldn't get angry with them for helping the enemy.

The memory of three adults, bickering and debating over politics and family. The white-haired boy had given up his side of the argument and stormed off, leaving the dark-haired boy and the girl staring at the spot where he had once been, a blonde-haired boy clutching to the dark-haired boy's leg and a brown-haired boy dressed in girl's clothes clinging to the front of the girl's skirt.

The memory of the white-haired boy returning, carrying a little blonde boy in his arms and reporting that he had a new little brother.

The memory of the dark-haired boy and girl pronouncing the announcement of their marriage and the unification of their countries. The white-haired boy staring at them curiously, then whispering something vastly inappropriate in their ears. The dark-haired boy stumbled backwards, cheeks pinkening, and the girl had hit him with her frying pan. The white-haired boy laughed and said he was joking, but the girl still chased after him with her frying pan, determined to at least get one more good hit in before she forgave him.

The memory of the dark-haired boy curled up in pain in his bedroom because of the recent assassination, his wife with him. A government official knocking and coming in, stating that they were going to war.

The memory of their government officials, soon after the war, glaring down at the dark-haired boy and girl, saying that they were going to divorce. The girl coming back to the dark-haired boy's house and taking her belongings, hugging her now ex-husband, and saying goodbye. The girl crying in her empty house, and the white-haired boy coming to visit from time to time to cheer her up.

The memory of the blonde boy, now grown up, standing with his allies, asking the girl to join him and his allies, the Axis. The girl, seeing the white-haired boy and the dark-haired boy, her friends, and agreeing to ally herself with them.

The memory of the Allied Control Council glaring down at the members of the Axis, discussing the proper punishments for their actions.

The memory of the Allied Control Council announcing the dissolution of the Free State of Prussia.

The memory of the white-haired boy saying goodbye to his brother and waving goodbye to the dark-haired boy and the girl before being dragged off by the pale-haired man with the intimidating aura to join his house.

The memory of the construction of the Berlin Wall, and the dark-haired boy and girl wondering if they would ever see their friend again.

The memory of the fall of the Berlin Wall, and the white-haired boy standing on the other side of it, waving at his brother and his friends that he hadn't seen in decades.

The memory of the dark-haired boy, the white-haired boy, and the girl in the old music room, playing their own respective instruments one last time.

The memory of the white-haired boy leaving, saying that he'd see them soon.

The memory of the white-haired boy's brother, the blonde boy, coming to tell them that his brother had faded away.

Tear after tear hit their instruments as they played. If they didn't know any better, they would have expected Gil to come out of nowhere and join them on his cello, but they knew better, and they knew he was gone now, so they played their instruments, and prayed it reached Gil on his star.

Gilbird flew into the music room and perched himself on the hilt of Gil's old cello, startling Elizabeta and Roderich into pausing their music and staring at the bird. Gilbird pecked a little at the tip of the dusty cello, then flew out the open window to the sky. Their eyes followed him and looked up at the stars.

Gilbird chirped proudly from his place in the sky, atop his owner's shoulder.

From his star, Gilbert smiled down at them and waved.

* * *

 _Two boys stood in the moonlight, long ago. They each played an instrument. One, the piano, and the other, the cello. A girl was with them, playing a violin happily and singing along. The boys had both attempted to teach her how to play the piano years ago, but all the music she could coax out of the well-loved instrument sounded like a cross between the yowl of a dying cat and the squawk of a dying chicken, except those ended after the animal died. The_ _music kept going on until the boys had begged her to stop, with tears in their eyes, and they all had collapsed laughing over the piano, which had squealed in protest of the sudden movement. They had repeated this process with numerous other instruments, but the only one she had the talent to play was the violin, so the violin she played._

 _The music blended together in a perfect_ _rhythm, and as it floated up and up, they prayed for their song to reach the stars._

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 _"When the pain penetrates, the music resonates."_

 _\- Jeric Rodriguez_

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 _"Music gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination and life to everything."_

 _\- Plato_

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A/N: There are so many quotes here. Just so many. Four. Actually, I've put more in a single story. Nevermind, ignore me. Yes, I know that Gil is normally portrayed as playing a flute. But for this I just liked the idea of him playing a cello. Dunno why. Just felt like it. If it bothers you, you can switch out the word cello with flute, and viola! He played the flute. I also have a headcanon that Gil can play just as many instruments as Austria, but he's shy about it and doesn't like to do it in public. Don't be afraid to shoot me a review, I don't bite! Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this and thanks for reading it! Ciao!


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